


little more than a memory

by Little Keplerette (classycloudcuckoolanderclasso)



Series: South Park Drabble Bomb April 2017: Springtime [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, M/M, South Park Drabble Bomb, Temporary Amnesia, some ocs but they're there for plot reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 14:39:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10664754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classycloudcuckoolanderclasso/pseuds/Little%20Keplerette
Summary: He chases the hats like they're pieces of his heart he didn't know he'd forgotten about until they had passed him by. And in a way, they had been.[Part of the SP Drabble Bomb on Tumblr]





	little more than a memory

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Air - Ahh, nothing like a fresh breeze in the late morning to really clear up your head. It smells like what, exactly? Is it the freshly cut grass, or sweet new flowers? That wind gets rather gusty at night though, doesn’t it? Does the wind make them nervous? Do they like the push of it against their body while they resist its direction, a literal representation of their stubborn teenage rebellion? That’s awfully poetic, actually. Maybe I’ll use that. Hm.
> 
> [[ this prompt became a really long oneshot because i was having so much fun ]]

"Are you excited, Tristan?"

The blond looks up at his mother - no, she's not his mother, she isn't, as much as he'd like to think she was, she wasn't - , in her radiant golden haired glory, through the mirror, her gentle golden eyes softening at the sight of her son, who only shrugs as a half-hearted reply, unsure of what to think of the development that was currently transpiring.

He was not her real son.

He had been found on the sidewalk somewhere in a town not too far from the heart of San Francisco, half-dead and nearly blue with cold with little to no memory of who he was prior, and the kind woman he had taken to calling mother in the years he had lived with her - her name was Stella Windham (and for some reason he thinks of a different name, that somehow the name was a little wrong, or perhaps he knew someone with a similar name, but it was his own speculation) - had taken him in, taking pity on him and caring for him like she would her own child.

She had her own child, certainly - a pretty little thing called Marjorie Starr (and yet again he thinks,  _There's something wrong with that name,_ because it resonates within him that he's supposed to know someone with a similar name, but he doesn't recall at all) - and Marjorie was, for lack of a better term, quite smitten with her new adopted brother, always clinging to him for protection, and while he was jittery and frail and quite honestly in no state to fight, he always did when she asked. She had eyes of the deepest blue - blues that, oddly enough, made him sad, though he knew not why this was so.

He could have passed for her son, though, without any adoption papers or anything, seeing as that all three of them had blond hair, and the eye colors didn't matter, because Stella had golden eyes and Marjorie had blue, and Tristan had brown, so who was to say how fucked up their genes actually were? They couldn't call them out on it.

He had found out he wasn't really her son, however, when Marjorie had tearfully asked him if he was really going to go back home to his real family one day.

* * *

" _My real family?" He had asked her, baffled beyond repair. "Marjo, what are you talking about?"_

_Marjorie had sniffed, clinging to his shirt. "M-mom says they've finally found your real family, she thinks, somewhere in this dumb ol' town in Colorado. But I don't want you to go!" She had bawled, hugging him tighter than she had ever done so before._

_"Wha... I'm not..." Tristan's world had begun to spin. "I'm not really your brother...?"_

_"You are!" Marjorie had insisted stubbornly. "Oh, don't leave me, Tristan, you're the only one nice to me besides Mom and Kendra!"_

* * *

"I don't see why I can't stay your son," Tristan grumbles, though it's more sad than angry as he tucks away a lock of hair from his sleeping sister's face. Marjorie is leaning against him, sniffling in her sleep, and honestly the idea that today might be the last time he'd see his sweet sister - fuck those who said otherwise, Marjorie was his sister for three whole years, and he adored her dearly - makes his resolve waver a little, his heart threatening to shatter itself on the spot.

Stella looks at him with the faintest of sadness in her eyes. "I wish you could stay my son as well, my dear. You have been such a wonderful son to me, and a wonderful brother to Marjorie. But it appears that this is not what fate has destined for you."

"Fate?" He wants to scoff. "What does fate have to do with this?"

"It's a wonderful spring day, isn't it?" Stella changes the subject, glancing outside, and with a grumble, Tristan looks out as well.

It  _is_ a pretty nice spring day.

"Awfully windy, if you ask me," Tristan comments, seeing a passerby's scarf fly off into the wind. "Yikes, the air is strong here."

She chuckles, and Marjorie shifts in her sleep as she asks, "I believe in fate, my dear son Tristan. And it was fate that brought you to me and Marjorie, and fate that took you back."

"Why would 'fate' do that, though?" Tristan asks her.

Stella shakes her head. "That I cannot answer, my dear. It was no mistake that led you to me, and Marjorie, and all of your friends in San Francisco, but I cannot really say for certain why this had to happen."

"How did I..." He hesitates. "How did I end up in San Francisco, though?"

"Heaven only knows the truth, my dear," She tells him solemnly. "But the news reports state that it was a mishap in your old home that sent you sprawling all the way over to San Francisco."

The male scoffs. "Poppycock."

"Haha, cock," Marjorie giggles, now more awake than asleep, as she sits up, giggling into her much too large sleeves despite their mother's disapproving glance, but at the sight of her brother, she bawls, and clings to him again. "Don't leave meeeee, Tristaaaan! I'm gonna m-m-miss yoooooou!"

Tristan's eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. "I'll miss you too, Marjo. You're the best sister anyone could ever have."

"We'll come visit every year," Stella promises, and, despite himself, Tristan leans over to peck her on the cheek, making her smile. "You're such a dear, Tristan. You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to, Mom," He declares, and she smiles wider.

* * *

South Park is, he decides, not as bad as it sounded.

It's a quiet little town, with its own modern niche. As his mother parks at the nearest parking lot, she suggests, "Maybe you and Marjorie can walk around for a bit, get yourself acquainted with the town. I'll be at the police station."

"What? Why?" Both blonds question her in worry.

Stella laughs. "It's not bad; I'm just going to inform the closest person with authority that we've arrived, and that your, um, parents should be notified. Yes, that's it," Her face turns a little downcast for about a few moments before she smiles and shoos them both away. "Scurry along, you two. Maybe you'll find something nice for Marjorie to take home to remember you by."

"I have lots of things to 'ember Tristan by!" As if to prove her point, Marjorie immediately plucks a strand of hair from Tristan's untameable mane.

"Ow! Marjo!"

"Sorry!" The girl apologizes quickly enough, before pulling out her little hanky and tucking the hair strand into it before putting it back in her pocket. "I'm gonna put that in the little silver charm he got me for my birthday last year, and I'm gonna wear it every day."

Tristan smirks, and plucks a strand from her as well. At her whines, he retorts, "It's only fair I get a keepsake from you as well, right, Marjo?"

"Aw, fine," Marjorie sulks, but she's still grinning as she takes his hand. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

"Have fun you two!" Their mother calls out, and they both yell back that they will before Marjorie forcibly drags them both around the corner.

* * *

Spring in South Park, Tristan decides, is rather similar to spring in San Francisco.

It's a small comfort.

It's relatively quiet, the streets of South Park, and while it's comforting, it's also a little unnerving to see nearly nobody out and about, the boy decides, still holding on to his sister's hand tightly as she observes the wind, giggling as it rustles her skirt and scarf, tickling her nose with a stray leaf. The air is clean, very clean, and Tristan breathes in, finding that somehow, it's nostalgic.

 _Maybe this_ is  _my old home._

He remembered nothing about his past, but whiffs like these... they made him wonder.

"Look, Tristan, there's a kid over there! He looks about as old as you!"

"We're very well near the same age, Marjo."

"I'm a year younger though! Do you see him?"

Tristan narrows his eyes, and indeed, there is a person somewhere farther off in front of them, their main color being a dazzling blue that somehow gets him captivated, hooked onto this mysterious person. The wind whistles in their ears as he stops in his tracks, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze - save for something blue flying straight at his face.

Tristan goes down like a sack of bricks.

He's not knocked out though - just caught off guard by the blue thing that had smacked him in the face, and with a groan and a worried mumble from Marjorie, he pries the thing off his face.

It's a blue chullo.

"That's mine," A voice tells him quietly, and immediately he stands up, still looking down at his pants - oh God he'd never hear the end of it from Stella - while shoving the chullo into the other's hands. "Uh, thanks for... catching it with your face, and... yeah."

"It's no pressure," He tells them briefly, and he looks up, only to be starstruck.

Craig's starstruck too, because his chullo slides out of his hands and into Marjorie's waiting ones, but at the moment it isn't quite as important as what he was currently seeing in front of him.

_It couldn't be. There was no possible way. Three years had gone by already._

_And yet..._

"Is there something on my face?" Tristan asks him, and immediately Craig clams up, embarrassed that he had been caught staring. "Dude, are you okay?"

"It's- it's nothing, I just-" He exhales slowly.  _I shouldn't get my hopes up._ "Let's start over. I'm Craig, and you just saved my- where's my chullo?" He looks around, and Tristan does so as well, and both pairs of eyes finally land on the hat jammed on Marjorie's giggly face. Tristan flushes at least five shades of red - no, Craig wasn't counting, what the fuck - before he pries the hat off his sister's head and hands it over to Craig, who nods in gratitude again.

"Tristan. Tristan Windham- though that isn't going to be my name any longer, I guess," Tristan shrugs, but both Marjorie and Craig pick up on his bitter undertone and change of posture as the air becomes a little bit heavier around them. "Not in a few hours."

Craig wants to hug him. It's a strange feeling, one that he usually only reserved for his boyfriends, his gang, and his family, but the fact that he was getting it for a total stranger was jarring. "Why so?"

"My mom - well, adoptive mom, I guess - says that my real family is here in... South Park, right?"

"Yes, this is South Park."

Tristan sighs. "She managed to trace back my origins to this town, and figured that my real parents would probably want me back. But I don't want to go back."

"Why not?" Craig asks, genuinely curious. Craig himself, he thinks, is adopted - he seems adopted, but there's also a qualifier that states that only one of his current parents was his blood parent, so he's not exactly sure himself -, and he doesn't really see anything wrong with Tristan's choice, but there's something there that makes him wonder. "Don't you miss your real parents?"

"Don't remember them," is Tristan's blunt reply, and Craig 'ah's in understanding.

"Amnesia, then?"

"Probably. The doctors said I'd be better if I went back home, here, but it doesn't feel like home yet."

Craig snorts. "South Park is home to the craziest fucks in the country, probably."

"Not in front of my sister!" Tristan hisses.

Marjorie grins. "I like this guy already."

"Don't you dare."

"Your sister?" Craig turns his gaze to the girl, who suddenly hides behind Tristan shyly, and eerily enough he's reminded of Butters's Marjorine persona, looking at her right now.  _They even have similar names, it's scary._ "Marjorie Windham?"

"Starr, actually," Tristan corrects. "She kept her dad's surname."

"Ah."

"Hey, Craig, are you in love with my brother?" Marjorie asks innocently.

Craig raises an eyebrow as Tristan turns at least twenty shades of fuchsia. "MARJO!"

"Why do you ask?" The noirette asks, humoring her. She can't possibly be younger than Tristan only by a year - she acts even younger than it - so the question seems mostly innocent to him... despite the growing feeling in his stomach.

Marjorie looks at Tristan, then at Craig, before answering honestly, "It was that look on your face, a while ago, when my brother finally looked at you. You looked like Kendra when she finally realized she was so drop dead in love with Wendell. But like..." She scrunches up her faces thoughtfully. "It doesn't make sense unless you've known my brother forever."

Pause.

"Do you?" Tristan asks him, suddenly curious. "Know me, I mean. Not- not whatever silliness my sister is spouting."

"Hey! It's not silly, it's true, you've seen Kendra!"

"That's not the point!"

Craig stifles a snicker, but there is a sinking feeling in his stomach, because there  _is_ some truth to Marjorie's words - when he had looked up, Craig hadn't seen Tristan Windham; he had seen Tweek Tweak, his long lost best friend, and one of three of his boyfriends. It was like falling all over again, and initially Craig had felt like he had betrayed Tweek's very memory by falling in love at first sight with a stranger that looked eerily enough like him.

And then Tristan's story had come into play.

Tweek had been declared dead for three years now.

Tristan had suddenly 'come back' to South Park.

It felt too good to be true.

"I think I do know you," Craig answers honestly. "I think, but..."

"But?"

"I don't know how to put this lightly..." Craig swallows.

"Just get on with it."

"If you are who I think you are... then you're my boyfriend."

Beat.

"What?"

"If you're really who I think you are, then... you're one of my three boyfriends."

Tristan promptly passes out.

* * *

it takes a lot of explaining from Marjorie and Craig's part when they show up with Tristan's unconscious body at the police station, but in the end they take him to a nearby bed and lay him there, with most of the police officers muttering to themselves things like 'it really is him' and 'mrs. tweak is either going to be overjoyed or not care at all' and 'look at the poor dear', and quite frankly it was annoying Craig to the very core, to the point that he had  _politely_ asked the officers to leave the room to him, Tristan, Stella, and Marjorie.

 _Polite_ being him shoving them out and shutting the door.

"That wasn't very nice," Stella murmurs.

"I'm not very nice," Craig grumbles back, but Stella knows he doesn't mean it; there's a furrow in his brow that she knows is stemming from his concern for her son, and, even though he and Marjorie do not say it, she seems to just know, because her next words are, "Are you an old friend of my son?"

"He's one of three boyfriends," Marjorie pipes up cheekily. Craig wants to deck her.

Stella raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Erm, I... is he..." He looks desperately at the unconscious Tristan.

The woman sighs, and pulls out a file, and a photo of Tristan. "His real name was, apparently, Tweek Tweak. Not very creative, but certainly memorable."

So it  _was_ Tweek.

Craig doesn't know whether he wants to sob, or laugh, or dial up Stan and Kyle to tell them that Tweek was, indeed, home at last. So instead, he settles for telling the woman, "Yes. I... I used to date Tweek Tweak, before he... went missing. They- they declared him dead, after that incident-"

"What exactly happened?"

"It was- it's a South Park thing-" Craig fumbles for words, because he's not exactly sure what it means to an outsider, what a 'South Park' thing means, because South Parkers understood immediately what it meant, but it took others a while before they learned what exactly it connoted. "It made him disappear. We thought... we thought he had died, he was nowhere in the surrounding areas."

"San Francisco was where he ended up," Stella soothes the boy gently. "With me and Marjorie over here."

"That's pretty far," Craig's eyes widen a little. "Jesus Christ, was he-"

"He was nearly dead from the cold when I found him, with little to nothing on him, and no memories to speak of," Stella turns to lean over her son's face, brushing locks of blond hair away from his forehead to kiss it tenderly. "The poor dear. I couldn't bear to leave him, and so I took him home and nursed him back to health, but he never did quite remember where he was from back then," She sighs. "It's honestly painful."

"What is?"

"That I must part with him," There is a sad look in her golden eyes that makes Craig sit down on the other empty chair opposite from her and Marjorie, who sidles up to her mother to nuzzle into her side. "Three years may not seem like much to the sixteen years he was with you and everyone else here, but... I will dearly miss him. He was the kindest boy I've ever known, isn't he, Marjorie?"

Marjorie's lip quivers, and Craig is once more reminded of Butters. "I don't want to lose my brother. Why does he have to go back to his real parents? What if they don't love him like we do?"

"Oh, dear, they will."

"But what if they don't?!" She bawls. "I don't want to lose Tristan!"

"...mnot... goin' away..."

They all look at him, and through her tears, Marjorie sees Tristan's hand reaching for hers. She grabs onto it and holds it tightly, close to her heart, and if it isn't a heartbreaking sight then nothing else is, as Tristan's - Tweek's - eyes flutter open slowly, his small mouth curling into a weak but reassuring smile as his sister cries and cries for a brother she knows she cannot keep, and, sitting up, the blond boy reaches out to her, and pulls her up and into a tight hug.

Craig remembers Tweek hugs. They're warm, and gentle, and loving.

Despite the heavy feeling of grief in the air, Tweek finds it in himself to reassure the girl, saying, "You promised me you'd visit every year."

"And I will!" Marjorie chokes out. "Don't forget me, okay?"

"How can I forget someone as annoying as you?" Tweek laughs, pinching her cheeks, and only now does it really occur to Craig that, somehow, over the three years of having lost his memory and living with another family, Tweek had lost his characteristic stutter, speaking as smoothly as anyone else would.

It wounds him a little, knowing that he wasn't around to see this development. But he's still happy.

Marjorie's eyes are still wet with tears. "I don't want to let go."

"Mom?" Tweek's eyes look up at Stella, and Craig mentally ponders what Mrs. Tweak would think of her long lost son calling another woman mother.  _It'd probably hurt_.

Stella only sighs. "Tweek's... real parents aren't here yet. You can hold on for as long as you'd like."

And she does.

* * *

It's much later when Kyle catches wind of the news, and when he does, he goes ballistic.

"Why didn't you call us sooner?!" He rants at Craig as Stan rolls his eyes from the driver's seat, taking a left turn. In the first row of the backseat are Clyde, Token, and Jimmy, and in the second row Kenny, Butters, and Kevin are all squashed together, watching Kyle's phone argument with his other noirette boyfriend. "Craig, come on, this is  _Tweek_ we're talking about here! You can't just fucking-  _he's our boyfriend too you know!"_

"Kyle, shh, calm down," Stan appeases, and, at a red light, he stops to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Craig had his reasons, and we're going there now, right?" The light flashes green, and Stan gets the car moving again, cruising along the mostly empty road.

"They had better be good, or  _so help me God-"_

_"Tweek doesn't remember us."_

"STOP THE CAR!" Kyle shrieks, and Stan, startled, immediately slams his foot down on the brakes, making everyone in the back seats yelp as they all squish each other, Jimmy nearly suffocating due to Clyde and Token pressing him against the window.

"Jesus, Kyle!" Stan hisses, but this time, he properly moves to the side and turns on the 'hazard' signal. "What was  _that?"_

Kyle's face is paper white as he turns on the speakerphone, and everyone in the car clambers closer to hear Craig's voice, sullen and resigned.  _"Hello? Kyle?"_

"He put it on suh-s-sp-speakerphone," Jimmy tells him, and there's an 'ah' of understanding before a brief silence. "Cuh-C-Craig?"

 _"About Tweek, you guys..."_ He sounds hesitant.  _"He's... he doesn't remember any of us."_

"What?" Kenny raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

 _"You know exactly why,"_ Craig snaps.

"Craig," Kyle warns.

There's a sigh, and then Craig just sounds sad.  _"He woke up in San Francisco with no memories. He's got some sort of... amnesia, or whatever, but the point is he doesn't remember anything about South Park. Not me, not you guys, not anything."_

The revelation hangs in the air as Stan slowly starts getting the car moving again, heading towards the police station, and for a moment, Butters looks like he's going to cry. Kevin Stoley shushes him though, patting his back, and he only hiccups before burying his face in Kenny's shoulder, seeking solace that the parka wearing boy offers immediately, though he too is dismayed.

Who wouldn't be?

"We're here," Stan says, after a few minutes, but nobody really deigns to get up, discouraged by Craig's words-

Clyde looks out the car window, and boggles. "Dude. Token, is that-"

"What?" The boy looks out as well, and he stares. "Is that our Tweek?"

Everyone else turns to look as well, and quite frankly it would be lying to say that Stan and Kyle's hearts did _not_ do a little pitterpat. Or was it a thumpa-thud? Hell if they knew - the girls knew better.

They first see a woman, possibly around their parents' age, and they're confused, and then they see Craig, walking out of the police station slowly. The third and fourth people that come out, however, are two blonds, one male, one female, and the female looking scarily enough like Butters's Marjorine persona had taken a life of her own, but the male was the one they were focusing on - Tweek.

Three years ago, sixteen year old Tweek Tweak had disappeared. Now, a nineteen year old stood before them, and what a sight he was to behold! His hair, still untameable, but combed neatly enough to be pulled into a ponytail that rested on his shoulder, and his eyes, once wide with anxiety and fear - even though those had whittled down considerably after he and Craig had started dating - were now more relaxed, though somber, if anything. He looked much healthier than the last time they saw him, rosy cheeked, and one might even dare call him pretty if he had hair closer to that of Pip Pirrup's, but really, he was  _handsome_ \- especially since he was now more composed, and clearly wasn't shaking as much.

Kyle emerges from the car, shaking, and the rest follow, Craig looking up to see them. Tweek, understandably, takes a step backward, an arm curling protectively over Marjorie as he scopes the new arrivals, but just then, a wind knocks off both Stan's and Kyle's hats, propelling them towards Tweek's face, though with his free hand he manages to catch them both this time before it can knock him down. Craig finds it rather ironic.

"Who are these guys?" Marjorie turns to Craig, the only one who most likely knew who they were. "And why does that guy look like Kendra?"

Tweek does a double take, looking at Kenny and Butters, and finds his little sister's face in Butters's, and is immediately spooked. "What the heck is- what the-"

"Fuck?" Kenny adds politely.

Token kicks him in the shin.

"You look jus' like me!" Butters gasps, and leaves Kenny's side to meet Marjorie, who leaves Tweek's side as well to examine her lookalike in wonderment. The two tiny blonds do a small mirror game for a few minutes, and it seems to ease the tension in the air until Marjorie pokes Butters's eyes with her fingers and cackles at his dilemma.

Token raises an eyebrow. "She is  _not_ like Butters at all."

"Is that his name? Butters?" Marjorie purses her lips. "Weird."

"It's Leopold, actually," Butters admits. "But golly, y'look a lot like me. That's real weird."

Marjorie shrugs, and points at Kenny. "He looks a lot like my girl best friend Kendra back home in San Francisco. I don't think that's too weird at all."

"Hmm..."

Amidst all of this, Tweek and Craig stand across from Stan and Kyle, and the four just stare at each other, the two hats still in Tweek's hand. There's something like uncertainty surrounding the four, and everyone shifts a little to accommodate it, because when Kyle hesitantly moves forward to retrieve his hat his hands are cold, clammy, and he's sweating like a sinner in church, because the boy- it was his boyfriend, the one they thought they had lost three years ago, and was actually alive. He knows those coffee brown eyes anywhere, the gentle tousling of his messy mane of hair, the small mouth that once peppered him, Stan, and Craig with kisses. He knows this is Tweek.

But this Tweek doesn't seem to know him.

"T-Thank you for catching my hat," Kyle stammers in earnest. "A-and Stan's hat, too!"

Tweek looks at Craig, who nods, before nodding as well. "It's no problem. I'm Tristan Windha-  _shit,_ " He curses under his breath, loud enough only for the four of them to hear. "Tristan Windham, but... I guess you guys know me as this guy named Tweek... Tweak?" His nose scrunches up adorably, but none of the trio comment. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's- your dad, here in South Park, he wasn't very original," Stan's voice is scratchy, like he's cried for hours. "I'm- I'm Stan. This is Kyle."

"And you already know me," Craig reminds.

Tweek turns to look at Craig again, and the sight of zero recognition stabs Craig in the heart. "It's- you mentioned- are they?"

"Yeah," is Craig's breathless, slightly choked reply, and Tweek turns to look at both Kyle and Stan again with scrutiny, crossing his arms. He's in a vest and long collared white shirt, making him look particularly stuffy, but it's intimidating to the two other boyfriends as he stares at them for quite some time, until finally he sighs to himself.

"At least my younger self knew attractive when he saw them," Tweek mutters, and despite themselves, Craig and Stan laugh breathlessly as Kyle turns beet red. "Well... at any rate..."

"Tweek?"

Everyone in the vicinity freezes, and suddenly something resonates in Tweek - something childlike, and sad. He looks away from Kyle, from Stan, and beyond them, and sees a brown haired woman, around Stella's age, her hands to her mouth and tears in her eyes. Everyone is looking at Tweek's reaction to the newcomer, and Stella seems particularly resigned, though there is a genuine but sad smile on her lips at the sight of the other woman.  _I hope you will be happy, my dear Tristan._

Tweek searches for something in the woman's eyes, a warm coffee brown, and then, his eyes widen.

Something clicks for Tweek in that moment, and while his mind does not truly remember, his heart does.

There's a crack in his voice when he finally half-whispers, "Mama," with the distress of a child lost in the aisles of the supermarket, only the supermarket is the world and San Francisco was the aisle he had been lost in.

"Tweek, is that really...?" Maryam Tweak's steps are slow and hesitant as she approaches the blond, Kyle and Stan making way for the mother to gently cup the nineteen year old's face, and she searches, searches long and hard, for indicators that it was, indeed, her child. Tweek does the same too - searching once again - but he's ramrod straight, still as a statue, as she traces the long faded scars on Tweek's face, from a long forgotten stint involving Marjorie's friend Kendra and a cat. It takes a few minutes, until finally, the woman begins singing a small song, one that makes Tweek's pupils shrink in recognition.

 _"Here in my arms, safe from all harm,"_ Her voice is soft, but just as melodic as Stella's, but it's not the voice that gets him - it's the melody, long ingrained into his brain, in his subconscious, and no amnesia could truly erase it. " _Holding you, I'm smiling, too."_

Tweek, whether he knew it or not, recognized the song.

Kyle recognizes the song - he's heard Tweek sing it before, to Ike, to Ruby - and he tugs on Stan and Craig's arms to catch their attention. When they look at him, he only mouths, "Look," before they all focus on Tweek.

Tweek, and the one tear that had fallen down his cheek.

Mrs. Tweak notices this, and with a tender look, wipes away the fallen tear. " _Hush now, my baby, be still, love, don't cry. Sleep like you're rocked by the stream,"_ She continued to sing softly, and despite himself, Tweek leans into her touch, and more tears fall, falling to the ground. The air whistles around them, ruffling the coats and scarves and skirts of everyone in the vicinity, tousling hair, but it does nothing to stop the quiet moment being shared by the two Tweaks.  _"Sleep and remember this river lullaby, and I'll be with you when you dream."_

 _"I'll... be with you when you dream,"_ Tweek whispers. It sounds more like a choked sob than anything else, and he doesn't know why-  _no, you know exactly why. Mom - Stella - wasn't lying when she said she'd bring you back to your real parents._

There is a smile on Mrs. Tweak's face, though it's watery. She embraces Tweek tightly. "My baby. Oh, my dear, sweet baby boy."

"M..." Tweek doesn't know what he's feeling. It's all warm and cold at the same time, warm because of the woman currently hugging him, and cold because of the woman he knew he was leaving behind. He looks up at Stella, seeking advice, but her lips only moved slightly, giving him an answer he didn't expect:  _"It's okay."_

Mrs. Tweak draws back, and whispers, "You're crying, dear."

"Huh?" Tweek blinks, and feels more tears cascading his face, and, in astonishment, he wipes them away with his palms and stares at their remains, too surprised by them to do anything else. "I... this..." He looks up helplessly at both women in the vicinity - the woman he had called mother for three years, and at the woman who was supposedly his real mother - before he stares back at his hands again. "I... I don't... what's..."

Kyle moves forward before anyone else does. "Tweek?"

He reaches out to touch his arm, and Tweek is brought back into a swirl of memories long forgotten.

* * *

_Craig, decking him, and him boxing his nose in retaliation._

_Stan, Kyle, and... another boy. He got the feeling he didn't quite like this boy._

_Him, being steadied by shoulders by Craig, being reassured that he was capable of more than he thought._

_Holding hands with Craig._

_Stan, holding hands with Kyle._

_Stan consequently puking._

_Him, being left behind with Kyle, while Stan and Craig did something._

_Holding hands with Kyle._

_Facing all three of them, holding out his arms._

_Embracing all three of them._

_More memories. With the other boys he saw coming out of the car with Kyle and Stan._

_A brunet. Clyde._

_A black boy in a violet sweater. Token._

_An Asian-American boy. Kevin._

_A petite blond like his sister Marjorie. Butters. And his female alter ego, Marjorine._

_A blond in an orange parka. Kenny._

_A boy with crutches and braces. Jimmy._

_More memories._

_Everything was swirling around Tweek, lighting up like fireflies with each one he manages to recall on his own, until finally, a final memory bursts forth, one that makes tears spill freely from Tweek's eyes._

_A single image of Maryam Tweak, her arms wrapped around Tweek like he was the most precious thing in the world to her._

_Tweek wakes up._

* * *

When Tweek awakens, he's in a room he doesn't recognize at first, but after a few moments, he remembers.

It's his room.

The bed is significantly smaller, or maybe he's just grown taller, but either way it's like he never left - there are Lego bricks scattered all over his desk and floor still, finished model buildings on his shelves along with his books. There are papers tacked all over the walls, with messy scribbles he recognizes as his own handwriting and doodling, but the most significant things were the many, many pictures he had with Craig, Kyle, and Stan, and the rest of what everyone recognized as Craig's gang, plastered all over the free spaces his doodle dumps didn't take up.

His heart aches.  _I can't believe I forgot about them... but..._ His mind drifts to his sister, and to his adoptive mother, and he frowns.  _Stella... Marjorie..._

A tweet resounds, and Tweek looks towards the cockatoo in the cage, tweeting softly to get his attention. His eyes light up in recognition as he whispers, "Sweetheart," and despite himself, he slides out from under the covers to unlock the cage, letting the bird climb up to his shoulder and rub her beak against his cheek, tweeting sweetly.

He remembered his pet bird.

"Are you awake yet, dear?"

Tweek freezes, and looks to the door. Maryam Tweak stands there, looking at him with so much love that he takes a step back to steady himself, and it's so startling to feel all the love radiating from her - or maybe it's just because he was gone for three years. Maybe that was it. "Um..."

"Well, when you're ready... we're all downstairs," She tells him kindly. "Marjorie's been anxious all day."

"All day? How long was I out?"

She purses her lips. "You don't stutter anymore."

"I used to stutter?" His fingers fly to his lips, and - okay, yeah, he remembers now, he used to stutter. "Huh. I... guess I don't. Didn't I work on it with Craig though?"

His biological mother shakes her head. "You did, but you still stuttered. Now - you're clean. You don't stutter at all."

"Huh," Tweek mumbles before he remembers something. "Wait... Marjorie?"

She smiles pleasantly. "Your sister is such a dear. We've been talking, me and Stella, and honestly, Tweek, she and Marjorie are the sweetest. We must have them over for all family celebrations from now on."

"Wait- really?" He gapes at his mother. "Is dad fine with this?"

"Your father's been dead for some time now," is all she tells him, and Tweek's only reply is an 'oh' before she chirps cheerily, "Well, like I said, sweetie, whenever you're ready. We'll be downstairs," She shuts the door, leaving Tweek with his cockatoo, who only cocks her head curiously.

"Should I go down?" He asks her. "Tweet once for yes and twice or no."

Sweetheart tweets once.

"Are you sure? Same rules."

Another single tweet.

"Do you really understand me? Nip my ear if you do."

Sweetheart tugs on his earlobe.

"Ow, okay, I get it!" With a laugh, Tweek puts Sweetheart back in her cage before heading for the door, but when he reaches the banister, he stops, listening intently to the voices below. He manages to pick up on the voices of Maryam and Stella, and Butters and Marjorie, but there were no indicators of Craig, Kyle, or Stan downstairs - a disappointing thought - , so with an inhale, he starts to make his way downstairs-

"Tweek?"

Tweek screeches and sucker punches the person behind him.

Craig goes down like a sack of bricks.

"... Shit."

* * *

It takes an hour for Craig to wake up, but afterwards it's all fine - he's just glad Tweek's back.

It takes Tweek two whole weeks to readjust to South Park, to everyone knowing his name, and to the fact that he has three boyfriends again, because his memories - while he has the basic ones - are still patchwork, holey and full of missing pieces, but everyone in town's willing to help - which makes Kyle comment that Tweek must have been a really important part of South Park if they were all willing to help the Tweak boy gain his memories back.

On a particularly windy spring afternoon, however, Tweek finds himself alone on a hill, just staring up at the sky, the grass tickling at his bare elbows.

"You up for company?"

He looks to the side. Stan sits down beside him, and together, they lay down on the grass, just watching the clouds.

"How's the brain doing?"

"As peachy as it ever could be."

"Peachy, good Lord, the way he talks," A voice comments, and they both look up to see Kyle. "And he gets it from you, you know."

"I know, and I like it," He tells him smugly as Kyle takes his place next to Stan to stare up at the clouds as well.

Silence.

"Do you remember anything new?" Kyle asks, after some time.

"Not really."

Beat.

"Does it bother you that you don't remember anything new?"

"Sort of," Tweek admits, and just then, he hears the familiar heavy footfalls of Craig approaching, and they all smile. "Hey, Craig."

"Hey," He says, and plops down on Tweek's other side. "What's new?"

"Tweek was just about to say something about whether or not it bothered him that he doesn't remember anything new yet," Kyle explains, turning over on his side to face the other three.

Craig turns and faces the other three as well, leaning on his other arm. "So... what's the verdict?"

"It sort of bothers me," Tweek reaffirms, and with a sigh, he looks back to the clouds, stretching out his arms on Stan and Craig respectively. "I just... it feels like people really want me to remember things from the past, and it's like I'm disappointing them, in a way, when I don't."

Stan frowns. "But you're not disappointing anyone."

"Yeah, I know, but it feels like it?" Tweek groans. "But at the same time, I just want to say that it doesn't matter if I don't get my old memories back."

"Why?" Kyle raises an eyebrow. "Aren't they still like, your memories?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Tweek sits up, and the rest of them follow, and he stares off into the distance, not particularly focusing on anything. The wind picks up slightly, and he sighs again, though this one is more wistful. "It'd be great to have them back... but we're always making new memories, aren't we? They won't replace the old ones, but it's still more memories, aren't they?"

Craig smiles. "That's true- ah, shit!"

The wind picks up even more, but this time, it knocks Craig's chullo off its perch and flying downward towards the town. Kyle's ushanka and Stan's knit cap soon follow, and with yells of indignation they all stand up, only for Tweek to laugh and say, "I'll get them!" while running down the hill, laughter ringing in the air.

He chases the hats downhill like they're pieces of his heart he didn't know he'd forgotten about until they had passed him by. And in a way, they had been. Pieces of his heart, symbolized by the trademark hats of the three boys he loved with all his being, flying away in the winds of time.

Tweek catches them all in his hands, and stares at all three hats intently before crushing them close to his chest, closing his eyes.

_I'm not gonna forget anything anymore._

_Not anymore._


End file.
